Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

He casually pushed open the door to a guest room in an opium den. The room was filled with smoke, and a heavy smoker was lying on the bed, puffing away. When he saw someone barging in, he immediately scolded impatiently, "Who is it? You didn't even knock, disturbing my enjoyment."

The room was filled with thick smoke, and neither of them could see the other's face clearly.

Chen Zhan did not answer. He walked straight to the clothes rack, picked up the brown brocade robe on it, and took off his own soaking, blood-stained clothes.

Seeing that he didn't speak, the smoker became annoyed and raised his voice to call for help: "Not going to talk? Someone come here and give him a piece of your mind!"

Before he could finish speaking, Chen Zhan grabbed the wet clothes from the ground, crumpled them into a ball, and stuffed them into his mouth, silencing him completely.

He then raised his hand and struck the smoker on the neck, knocking him unconscious.

Chen Zhan rummaged through the cabinet and found a bottle of kerosene. He poured it onto his soaked, blood-stained clothes, lit the kerosene lamp in the room, threw a tinderbox onto the clothes, and watched the flames rise before turning and leaving the guest room.

When he reappeared on the street, Chen Zhan changed into a loose brown brocade robe, dressed up as a wealthy young master, and walked with ease.

The feeling of being watched disappeared.

He straightened his clothes and walked towards the concession area.

It was late at night, and the rain had completely stopped.

The streets of the concession area shimmered with a damp light. Gaslights shone down, casting dim, yellowish patches of light on the bluestone slabs, the edges of which blurred and stretched into long, thin tails.

Several lights were damaged in the chaos the day before yesterday, and the lampposts are leaning precariously; no one is fixing them.

The dark lights stand starkly by the roadside, alternating with the intact streetlights, creating a scene of alternating brightness and darkness.

Chen Zhan walked over from the direction of the Golden Bridge. His brown brocade robe was loose, with the cuffs rolled up to reveal his forearms. He walked slowly, making almost no sound as he stepped on the wet ground.

His face is no longer his face.

High cheekbones, prominent brow bones, a sharp chin, and an old scar on his left cheek.

He looked like a lean, wiry man who worked at the docks, and his clothes didn't really suit him.

Occasionally, police officers would pass by on the street, in twos or threes, walking quickly, with their guns slung over their backs, none of them carrying them.

Completely different from their arrogant demeanor during the raid a few days ago, they walked with their necks hunched, spoke in hushed tones, and peeked out at every corner before daring to take a step.

Scared.

Chen Zhan walked among them, even brushing past a group of police officers. The officers merely glanced at him, their gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar face before quickly looking away, their steps unwavering.

The recent losses have been too great. Charles is dead, Yin Fu is dead, Lian Shanyue is dead, Chen Heting is dead, and Ji Qian, the master of the Caobang, is dead.

The bodies of countless police officers and gang thugs are still lying in the streets and alleys of the old city, and have not yet been collected.

The police stations throughout the concession were in complete chaos, with all available manpower dispatched to clean up the mess, leaving the concession itself mostly empty.

Gordon Hall can be seen from afar; it is a three-story English-style brick and wood structure with red brick walls that gleam darkly in the night. Its pointed towers pierce the sky, and it is brightly lit with people coming and going.

It was much livelier than usual, filled with police officers running errands and relaying orders, and a few foreigners in suits standing at the door smoking cigars and arguing rapidly.

Chen Zhan did not approach the main entrance, but instead turned and went around to the west side of Gordon Hall.

This wall is right next to a narrow alley. The alley is not wide, and two people can barely pass side by side. There are some broken wooden boxes and empty wine bottles piled on the ground, which are the debris discarded by the police station's logistics department.

There was a waist-high iron window at the base of the wall, leading to the underground storage room. A rusty brass lock hung on the window, indicating that it hadn't been opened for a long time.

Chen Zhan squatted down, pinched the copper lock with two fingers, and slightly tightened his fingers.

"Click."

The lock cylinder shattered, and copper plates fell through the gaps between the fingers, landing on the wet ground with a very faint sound, which was drowned out by the noise of people in the distance.

The iron window was pushed open a crack, and Chen Zhan squeezed in sideways, his feet landing on the wooden planks of the storage room without making a sound.

The storage room was filled with dusty old file boxes and discarded police uniforms. The air was filled with a musty and damp smell, and frequent footsteps could be heard coming from the ceiling above. People were busy and chaotic.

Chen Zhan changed into an abandoned police uniform, walked through the storage room, and pushed open the wooden door on the inside. The wooden door led to a narrow staircase leading to the first-floor corridor.

There was no one guarding the end of the stairs.

He climbed the stairs with steady steps and entered the corridor on the first floor of Gordon Hall.

The corridor was long and carpeted with red carpets. On both sides were rows of offices, most of which had their doors open, and the people inside were either flipping through documents or talking in hushed tones.

No one noticed that there was an extra person in the corridor.

Chen Zhan walked deeper into the corridor, with a clear goal in mind.

Li Bo had previously described the internal layout of the police station: the interrogation room was on the second floor on the east side, and the prison cells were on the first floor at the very back, separated by three iron doors.

He went up to the second floor first.

The second-floor corridor was much quieter than the first floor, and the lights were dimmer. Only one room at the end of the corridor was lit up. A dozing policeman stood in the doorway, his gun against the wall and his body against the door frame, nodding his head repeatedly.

I guess I haven't slept in a long time.

Chen Zhan walked over, and the policeman's head was at its lowest point, not yet raised, when a hand was already pressed on the back of his neck.

Apply pressure with your fingertips, precisely pinching the third cervical vertebra.

The police officer's body went limp, and before he could even catch his breath, he lost consciousness.

Leaning against the wall, he looked as if he were asleep.

Chen Zhan raised his hand and pushed open the door.

The room was small, with an iron table, two iron chairs, and a pair of handcuffs and half a bowl of cold porridge lying in the corner.

Li Bo sat on an iron chair, his hands cuffed to an iron table. There were faint marks on his wrists. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was messy, his eyes were sunken, and his lips were chapped. He looked like he hadn't slept much for several days.

Hearing the door open, he looked up sharply and saw a strange man standing in the doorway, his body tense and his hands clenched into fists.

Although he was wearing a police uniform, Li Bo was certain that this person was not from the police station.

He had met all the Chinese people in the police station.

But before he could call out, Chen Zhan spoke up.

He only said two words: "It's me."

His voice wasn't loud, just like when he rescued someone in the alley earlier.

Li Bo was taken aback. He was very suspicious of Chen Zhan's appearance, but the voice was indeed the same, and the expression and tone of voice were exactly the same.

Chen Zhan walked to the table, pulled out another iron chair, and sat down.

Li Bo realized what was happening, lowered his hand, revealing red-rimmed eyes, and said in a hoarse voice, "It wasn't me, it really wasn't me."

"I know."

Li Bo paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, then continued, "He described everything that happened that night, including Erzhu and He Ming's appearances. I don't know how much more he said. I was interrogated separately, and Jason asked me many questions. I insisted I knew nothing, only that you coerced me into doing things, and I dared not disobey."

"No torture or forced confession?" Chen Zhan glanced at the marks on his wrists.

"No."

Li Bo shook his head: "He had planned to torture people during the day, but you killed a large number of people in the old city, and the police station was in complete chaos. He was called away to handle the aftermath, so the interrogation was put on hold."

Chen Zhan nodded, asked no further questions, and stood up.

"Can you swim?"

Li Bo paused for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded emphatically.

Chen Zhan stepped forward, grabbed the handcuffs, and snapped them in two. "Let's go."

Return the way you came, go down from the second floor to the first floor, and walk through the corridor.

At the door of an office in the middle of the corridor, two police officers stood facing each other, each holding a document, checking numbers with their heads down, and muttering to themselves.

As Chen Zhan walked over, the two of them looked up almost simultaneously, their words still lingering on their lips, their eyes just turning in his direction.

He simultaneously reached out with both hands, one on each of their necks.

Without a sound, the two bodies fell to their sides, leaning against the wall, and slowly slid to the ground, scattering the documents in their hands.

Li Bo watched this scene from behind, his throat tightened, and he quickened his pace.

The two crawled back into the storage room, climbed out through the iron window, and quickly walked along the narrow alley to the bank of the Haihe River.

The river was dark and murky, and the night wind rippled the water. Few lights were on in the old town on the opposite bank.

Chen Zhan stood on the shore, grabbed Li Bo by the back of his collar, and with a forceful swing of his arm, flung him away.

Li Bo flipped in the air and crashed into the river with a "plop," splashing water high into the air, the icy river water instantly filling his mouth and nose.

He splashed around in the water a couple of times, instinctively wiping the water off his face, and looked back at the shore.

The shore was deserted; Chen Zhan was no longer there.

Li Bo stared at the deserted riverbank for two seconds, took a deep breath, turned his head, submerged himself in the water, held his breath, and swam desperately towards the opposite bank.

Chen Zhan walked along the riverbank for more than a hundred meters before turning back towards Gordon Hall.

This time, he didn't take a detour, didn't go through narrow alleys, and didn't look for iron bars.

He went straight to the main entrance.

Gordon Church has two heavy oak doors at its main entrance, but usually only one is open, while the other is always closed.

Both doors were wide open at the moment, and people were coming and going without stopping.

Two guards stood at the gate, one leaning on a rifle and the other with a pistol at his waist, standing by the gatepost, staring blankly at the street.

Chen Zhan stepped onto the stairs, his pace indistinguishable from that of the pedestrians on the street.

The guard on the left saw him first, his lips moved, and he only managed to utter half a syllable.

They'll probably ask, "Who are you?" or "What do you do?"

Chen Zhan's hand was already on his neck, his palm pressed against his neck, his fingertips pressing down slightly.

"Click."

The sound of the neck breaking was extremely faint. The guard's eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and he slid down the doorpost.

Hearing the commotion, the guard on the right turned his head. Just as his pupils focused, Chen Zhan's other hand was already gripping his throat. With a press of his thumb and forefinger, the trachea collapsed, the man's mouth gaped open, unable to make a sound, and his body fell backward.

The two men fell to the ground almost simultaneously. The rifle remained upright against the doorpost, while the pistol was still securely tucked into his waistband.

Chen Zhan stepped over them and entered the lobby on the first floor of Gordon Hall.

There were more than a dozen people in the hall.

Several police officers were gathered around a long table organizing documents, with papers spread all over the table, and someone was stuffing reports into folders.

In the corner, three policemen squatted on the ground cleaning their guns. The smell of gun oil filled the air, mixed with the acrid odor of burning gas lamps.

Behind the counter sat a recorder, head down, writing, the pen tip scratching across the paper.

A few other people were leaning against the wall chatting, holding cups of coffee that had gone cold, speaking English very quickly, interspersed with swear words.

No one looked up at him.

A Chinese man in a police uniform walked into the police station; it was all too common on this chaotic night.

Chen Zhan's footsteps were drowned out by the noise of people and the rustling of papers as he walked through the hall toward the inner corridor.

The sound came from behind, and someone noticed the two patrol officers lying on the ground.

At the entrance to the corridor, a young foreign police officer carrying a stack of files walked towards Chen Zhan, almost bumping into him.

The young policeman took a step back, about to say "excuse me," when Chen Zhan's hand was already on his chest.

He released his hidden strength.

The young policeman's expression froze the moment he opened his mouth. His lips parted slightly, his eyes narrowed, and he remained standing without falling. However, the files in his arms scattered all over the floor, spilling across the corridor with a "whoosh."

His heart had stopped.

His body froze on the spot, and after two or three seconds, he collapsed into the pile of documents with a thud.

Someone in the hall heard the sound of papers scattering and looked up toward the corridor.

I didn't see anything.

Chen Zhan had already turned into the depths of the corridor.

The corridor was lined with offices, most of which had their doors open and were brightly lit, with people inside.

Chen Zhan walked from room to room.

In the first office sat two foreigners, one dozing off at the table, the other stuffing letters into envelopes.

As he slipped the letter in, he caught a glimpse of a figure passing by the door and was about to turn his head to look.

A hand reached in from outside the door, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed it down, his forehead hitting the edge of the table with a dull thud.

The one who was dozing off was startled awake by the noise. He had just raised his head when he was struck on the back of the neck by a palm strike, and he fell back down.

The second office was empty, the light was still on, and a half-finished report lay on the table.

In the third office, a foreign police officer was standing by the window with his back to the door, smoking. Hearing footsteps, he turned around, still with a cigarette in his mouth, and saw a hand reaching out towards him.

He wanted to retreat, but there was a window right behind him, leaving him nowhere to go.

My fingers pinched the side of his neck, the cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground, and everything went black.

As Chen Zhan passed by, he bent down, picked up the still-smoking cigarette butt from the ground, and stubbed it out on the windowsill.

He doesn't need fire cover.

Continuing forward, at the end of the corridor, there was a door that was half-open and half-closed by the wind, making a creaking sound.

As he passed by, he closed the door tightly behind him.

At the corner of the corridor, they bumped into three police officers.

The three men walked over from the direction of the prison cell, carrying chains and handcuffs. They looked like they had just changed the prisoners' shackles and were chatting.

Leading the way was a burly foreigner with a thick beard and broad shoulders. When he saw Chen Zhan approaching, he frowned and stopped.

He opened his mouth and said something in English, roughly meaning, "Who are you? No unauthorized personnel are allowed in here."

Chen Zhan didn't stop and walked up to him.

The bearded man reached out, trying to block Chen Zhan's path, but before his hand could even touch Chen Zhan's chest, his entire arm was grabbed. (End of Chapter)